I sit on my bed, staring at the blank, lifeless wall in front of me. My arms were crossed in a tight knot against my slowly rising chest.
I look down at myself in the straight-jacket, frizzy brown locks tangled within the confusing wrapping.
I didn't know the exact reason I was in here, but I knew something was wrong with me.
My skin was itching, feeling like I was being tickled from the inside-out.
I grew anxious to itch the tickling, moaning in a somewhat pain.
Then, I felt a bite.
I screamed and yanked my arms as hard as I could. To my luck, they came free.
I itched my arms with what seemed like immortal speed.
When the itching didn't stop, I used my fingernails and ripped my skin open, making blood hush from the wound.
Suddenly, little ladybugs crawled out of the wound.
The last thing I remembered was the sound of my ear-splitting screamed.
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